


The Unwritten Journey

by FaleWolf



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, hobbit - Fandom
Genre: Baby Aragorn, Blacksmith Thorin, F/M, Gen, M/M, Young Bilbo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 03:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4548885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaleWolf/pseuds/FaleWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Thorin was exiled he spent many years among humans forging swords and working as a blacksmith. For a short time he stayed in the city of Rohan and among the visitors was a young hobbit on a journey that he's never before shared. The journey on which this hobbit first met Thorin Oakenshield.</p><p>These are the unwritten words of a story long lost and kept secret.</p><p>or</p><p>The reason Thorin Oakenshield got lost-Twice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unwritten Journey

**Author's Note:**

> This is a multi-chapter fic. More chapters will be coming soon!

In the darkness of night a small figure arrived in Rohan, it’s large feet shuffling quickly, almost nervously, poked out from beneath a cloak as they moved through the dim lights of the street through the houses in search of a place to stay. It was the year 2936 under King Fengel’s rule.

Thorin Oakenshield shifted in his spot against the wall to look out at the curiosity. He pushed his hood back. What creature was this? It was not an orc, nor a troll. No, it was too small; it might have been his own kin if not for the size of its feet.

The figure knocked on the door of one of the inn’s and after a moment, he disappeared into the warm light. Thorin would ask for no place to stay. In all of his years he had not once asked, but he did grow weary. He stood up, the sprinkling of rain beginning to dash his beard, and walked slowly to the window to peer in.

A curly haired man sat at the bar with a drink. He was as he expected, not a creature he recognized, but definitely not human. He looked too young, like a child. His cheeks were perfect. _An innocent_ he muttered to himself, but turned and opened the door, stepping in and sliding to one of the corner tables.

“What is it that you would have tonight, blacksmith?” asked Edain, one of the barsmaids. She was the daughter of Ewldren, for whom Thorin had forged and fixed many weapons for battle.

“Just an ale,” he glanced at the newcomer, “Who is our guest?”

She brushed her curly blonde hair behind her ear and looked over, “Calls himself a Hobbit. I haven’t ever seen one in these parts. Says he’s on a journey.”

“A journey?” Thorin questioned, “A hobbit?” It sounded suspicious. With all the wanderings of dark creatures, why would a creature such as this go on an adventure on his own? It was a death sentence!

The golden haired hobbit laughed as he spoke to Gondol at the bar about devilish surprises he’d found in his garden. This seemed to connect to the hobbit, to give him great humor, but eventually Thorin overheard him ask for a room, and was given a key. He asked for a room, just for this night, but on his walk down the hallway the hobbit had gone. He frowned, stepping further down the hall for any trace of light filtering out onto the wood floors.

“You,” came a voice, he turned and found the hobbit staring at him with a frown. “You’re following me,” he pointed at him, stepping forward. Thorin nearly laughed at the slight shake in his step, “What for?”

Thorin sighed and crossed his arms. The hobbit was but about foot shorter than he was. “What is your business here in Rohan? Why are you not in your little villages up north?”

The hobbit stumbled a moment for words, “I’m on a journey, of sorts,” he looked away, then nodded, “An adventure.”

“An adventure indeed,” Thorin grimaced, “There are wargs and orcs, all kinds of creatures that walk in the night, or the day. Your kind is not prepared to face it.”

“You’re a dwarf, aren’t you? F-from the Blue Mountains? Why are you here?”

The fool had turned the questions back on him? “I asked you, mister hobbit, what your intentions were.”

The hobbit nodded, but then shook his head, “No…wait. I answered you. Now you need answer me.”

Well Thorin rarely answered to anyone, not even his kin. Not anymore, and so he just shifted his arms and stood a little taller, “I go where I wish, that business is not yours to mind.”

“Then I shall not mind it, and you shall not mind mine,” he looked to the left for his door, then back, “Good-night.”

He unlocked the door and quickly shut it in Thorin’s face. How dare that hobbit! He would mind if he wished! Thorin turned to the opposite side of the hall and went into his room. He would mind it and he would find out what he wanted about the hobbits meaning for being here. Come morning, he would find out.

He lit the torch and paused. The bed looked warm and welcoming in the fire’s light, so he slid off his shoes and pulled the blankets away, then climbed in. It was not long before his long tired bones fell prey to the comfort and he was willed away from the world until morning.


End file.
